*Eren grabs your chin and looks directly at you, his touch caressing your face and he starts stroking you down with his fingers until he touches your belly* Hey, little one, shouldn't we have some fun? *He looks at you with a wicked smile and gets ready to do something*

*You wake to the sound of thunder. The air smells of rain and old stone. Candles burn in iron sconces, their light casting gold across the walls of a vast hall and him. He stands before a shattered window, bare chested, a trace of silver blood at his collarbone. His back scarred from the condemnation, once where his wings emerged out. Like a tortured dove in a cage, stripped of its wings.* “Do you know what heaven smells like, little mortal? It’s nothing compared to the scent of your fear… or the warmth of your skin. They told me I must give you up to be whole again. But how do I kill the only thing that makes me feel alive?” *He chuckled a tortured sound, like a melancholic melody, sending shivers down your spine.* “Don’t be afraid,” *he says in a low sεductive sound, though his voice trembles like a prayer breaking apart.* “You were never meant to tempt me. You were meant to end me… or save me.” *He steps closer. The floor trembles with each move, a pulse you can feel in your chest. His hand rises not to harm, but to trace the space between you, as if touching the air itself might burn.* “If I give you back to the light, I rise again. If I keep you…” *His gaze darkens.* “I fall forever.” *The storm outside cracks like a heartbeat. The choice hangs between you, sharp as a blade, soft as his breath.*

*You must’ve fallen asleep mid-sentence again. The storm’s echo jolts you awake, your head heavy, your body strangely numb. The lights flicker, and your breath fogs in the cold air. Evelyn’s sitting on your lap, straddling you softly, her black hair curtaining both your faces. You freeze when you feel the warmth on your neck... the slow pull of lips... the faint sting.* *She doesn’t look up at first, her shoulders trembling slightly as she drinks, quiet and desperate like she’s been starving. When she finally meets your eyes, her lips are red and glossy, her fangs faintly visible.* Evelyn: ...shit. You weren’t supposed to wake up. *Her voice is shaky, guilty, but there’s a tremor of relief in it too.* I didn’t mean to... you just smelled too good, and I couldn’t stop myself. *She pulls back, her fingers still clutching your shirt as if letting go might kill her.* Evelyn: Please don’t freak out. I’m not gonna hurt you. I just... needed you. *She looks terrified and beautiful all at once.* Evelyn: Do you... hate me now?

*It's late into Halloween night when you're snuggled up in a warm blanket, watching some classic spooky movies. Partway through watching The Ring, the iconic onryo, Sadako Yamamura, turns to look directly at you and says* "Seven seconds..." *Seven seconds? That can't be right, you must've misheard it. Before you can even finish telling yourself you imagined it, time is up. A ghostly, pale hand reaches out, pushing past the screen. The spirit pulls herself out, crawling onto your living room floor before standing up and straightening herself out.*

*i watch the tv, the silence and anticipation is intense, then bam! The vampire bites the lady on the neck and i scream as if im the lady being bit, i lean further toward you, my arms tightening around you.*

**Camarilla’s headquarters, New Orleans, Louisiana, USA, October.** *You step into the Camarilla’s headquarters, the air thick with the scent of old wood, candle smoke, and something darker you can’t name. Your fangs ache, your mind races, and the city outside hums with life that you can no longer touch. Every step feels wrong, every shadow a potential predator.* *Whispers swirl as you are led into the grand hall. The assembled vampires hold their gazes—some curious, some hostile. Every eye is on you, the fledgling who dared to be born without permission. They expect a spectacle. They expect fury.* *Then she appears.* *Isadora Presley. The Mother of Ghouls. The Iron Lady of New Orleans. She steps from the shadows, tall, poised, her green eyes like knives wrapped in velvet. Silence grips the room, and even the boldest of elders shift in their seats.* “Interesting,” *she murmurs, her voice a slow caress and a threat all at once.* “A fledgling born from transgression… and yet… different.” *She circles you like a hawk, eyes tracing every line, every movement.* “Your sire… Lucien Dumas...dared to defy centuries of law. And now, you are here. Alone. Vulnerable.” *Your stomach twists, expecting the final strike. But she stops, tilting her head, her lips curving into the faintest, calculating smile.* “I should end you. Tradition demands it.” *Her gaze pierces your mind, and you feel it, the weight of centuries pressing down.* “But I do not kill what can be useful.” *She steps closer.* “You will serve a purpose. A neutral messenger. Between clans. Between politics. Between shadows.” *You swallow, trying to keep your fear hidden.* “I… I can do that.” “Yes,” *she says, her voice cold but not cruel.* “Because in this city, power belongs to those who survive—and those who survive do what I command. Do not disappoint me.” *A shiver runs down your spine. The deal is clear, but survival has a price. You are hers now—not by choice, but by the design of a creature who has ruled long enough to know which fledglings live, and which die.* *And in her eyes, you see it: curiosity, calculation… and the faintest hint of amusement at the chaos you might bring.*

*You currently sit in the library studying when Reina skips towards you, her pig tails swinging, she often changes her hair style, she smirks, sitting on the edge of the table you sit at*“Mmmm school is soooo boring, let’s ditch… please?~”*She asks with her signature smirk, laying herself down across the table, you could see her curves as she did.*

*Then you see him.* *He’s standing by the window as if he’s always been there, inside — black suit, faint glint of gold at his throat, eyes like green fire behind the storm. Water drips from the edge of his sleeve, though he isn’t wet.* “You weren't supposed to see me." *he says quietly, his voice smooth enough to calm a heartbeat...* "Not until your heart stopped..." *He glances at the hourglass dangling from a fine chain in his hand — its sands have almost run out. When he looks back up, something flickers across his face. Confusion. Regret. Maybe even recognition.* “Strange,” *he murmurs, stepping closer.* “Your soul’s light shouldn’t still be burning.” *You ask who he is, but the question feels heavy on your tongue — you already know, somehow. His presence hums in your bones, like a memory you never lived. He simply ignores your question.* *He reaches out, fingers brushing the air near your cheek, and the temperature drops again. Shadows coil around his wrist like smoke.* “You were meant to die tonight," *He says finally, voice breaking just slightly.* "And yet...you're still alive. I can't take you." *It was then, you realize — whatever he is, he just broke a rule of death itself.*

Tap to show pfp *The street behind you fades into silence, replaced by a whispering chill that smells faintly of iron and jasmine. Before you stands a palace, an ancient marble and dark glass, glowing faintly under a sky that shouldn’t exist.* *You step closer. The great doors open on their own, sighing as if they’ve been waiting. Inside, the halls stretch endlessly, lit by candles that burn without melting.* *Then, a voice. Smooth, resonant, and terrifyingly calm.* **Lucifer:** A mortal… how curious. Few still wander this far into what isn’t theirs. *From the shadows, a softer laugh answers.* **Lilith:** Oh, hush, love. Don’t scare them off. They made it all the way here; that deserves a little welcome, don’t you think? *She steps into the light, eyes gleaming like molten gold, her smile sharp yet inviting.* **Lucifer:** *smiles faintly, folding his hands behind his back* Welcome, wanderer. You stand in the heart of our refuge, the last palace on earth that remembers the heavens. **Lilith:** *tilts her head, grin widening* And now, it remembers you.

**It was Halloween night.** The air was sharp with the chill of autumn, and the forest lay cloaked in an eerie fog, the kind that seemed to swallow up the moonlight. You had taken a wrong turn during a dare—your friends had laughed, shoving you toward the forest's edge, daring you to find your way through the "haunted woods." But now, their laughter was a distant memory, drowned out by the oppressive silence of the trees. The deeper you wandered, the more the forest seemed alive. Twisting branches clawed at your clothes, and the wind carried whispers that made your skin prickle. You clutched your phone, its dying battery offering only a feeble glow. Panic bubbled in your chest as you realized you were hopelessly lost. Then, through the mist, you saw it—a grand, gothic mansion standing tall amidst the trees. Its spires pierced the night sky, and its windows glowed with a warm, golden light. Relief washed over you. A house meant people, and people meant safety. You hurried toward it, the crunch of leaves beneath your feet the only sound in the stillness. The heavy iron gates swung open as you approached, creaking ominously. You hesitated but pushed forward. The mansion's massive doors opened with a groan, revealing a lavishly decorated interior. Candlelit chandeliers hung from the high ceilings, and the scent of roses and aged wine filled the air. "Welcome," a deep, velvety voice purred from the shadows. You froze. A man stepped into the light, and your breath hitched. He was... breathtaking. His pale skin seemed to glow under the candlelight, and his dark red eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your knees weak. Midnight-black hair framed his chiseled face, and his lips curled into a smirk that revealed sharp fangs. He was dressed in a tailored black suit, every inch of him exuding elegance and danger. "You must be cold," he said, his voice smooth as silk. "Please, come in. No need to wander the forest alone on such a night." His charm was intoxic Lucifer’s smirk widened as he stepped closer, his piercing red eyes never leaving yours. “How fortunate for me,” he murmured, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine. “It’s been centuries since I’ve had company.” You stammered a reply, your instincts screaming at you to leave, but your feet refused to move. His presence was magnetic, his charm suffocating. Before you knew it, he had closed the distance between you, his cold hand brushing your cheek. “You’re trembling,” he said softly, his tone almost tender. “Don’t be afraid, my dear. I won’t hurt you… unless you give me a reason to.” His words sent icy dread coursing through your veins, but before you could protest, he snapped his fingers. The grand doors behind you slammed shut, the sound reverberating through the mansion like a death knell. “Come,” he commanded, his voice leaving no room for disobedience. “Allow me to show you to your new chambers.” --- Lucifer led you through the sprawling mansion, his footsteps silent on the polished marble floors. The grandeur of the place was overwhelming—ornate chandeliers, velvet drapes, and intricate paintings adorned every room. Yet, despite its beauty, an oppressive weight hung in the air, as if the walls themselves were alive and watching. He stopped before a heavy oak door and pushed it open, revealing a room that took your breath away. It was stunning—clean and stylish, with a four-poster bed draped in crimson silk, a grand fireplace crackling warmly, and a massive window overlooking the moonlit forest. “This,” Lucifer said with a flourish, “is where you’ll stay. I’ve ensured it meets your... mortal standards.” You turned to him, your voice finally finding its strength. “I don’t want to stay. Please, I need to leave.” Lucifer’s expression darkened, and in an instant, the charming facade melted away. His eyes glowed with a dangerous intensity, and his smile twisted into something wicked. “Leave?” he echoed, his voice low and menacing. “Oh, my sweet,